I met Jeff as he was coming down from Mt. Olympus.
He carried this strict, confident, in-control persona fresh from his back-to-back success in handling the international media affairs of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympic Games and the 2010 Guangzhou Asian Games. Jeff was involved in the high-level management of these games while simultaneously meeting his obligations as consultant of China Southern Airlines.
At the time we met, I was a journalist/development worker with grassroots, community and local business involvements focused on telling and sharing the stories of people and helping families and individuals build successful corporate-community partnerships. I was idealistic, armed with a string of awards from being a youth leader, an outstanding student and exemplary volunteer.
I’ve always thought I was indestructible. I had every aspect of my life quite figured out: I’ll get married at 32, have a baby at 35 and then celebrate my 40th birthday 2,400m high in Machu Picchu taking the Inca Trail with one of my best friends, Jessie.
Everything was in order until I met Jeff descending from that Holy Mountain quite downtrodden with the end of a 20-year marriage.
In each other, we found joy and companionship. We spent several hours talking about economics, politics, Philippine-US relations, China, books, food and whatever subject came to mind when we met halfway in Asia on a monthly basis as he was then still living in Guangzhou, China, and yours truly calling Cebu, Philippines, as my home base.
We never became boyfriend/girlfriend because the moment I met him in Hong Kong, I knew I was going to marry him.
He courted me to be his wife.
I have always appreciated Jeff’s sweet gestures especially that of him writing me hundreds of love letters in the years that we were not physically together in one continent.
I appreciated — and loved him — more when he became not just my husband but father to my children.
Jeff was still based in Guangzhou and I was in Cebu when I was pregnant with the twins. That was a costly setup for us and an emotional ordeal for him.
On the day that I was admitted, presumably to give birth to our first two mutants, Jeff took a two-hour train south from Guangzhou to brave the streets of Hong Kong and make a 1 a.m. flight to Cebu to finally meet me at Chong Hua Hospital.
I was discharged from the delivery room the same day.
“False alarm,” the doctor said.
The following day, I had a routine checkup and the doctor saw a bit of a complication with twin no. 1 (Nicholas) so we had an emergency cesarean operation.
Jeff was not allowed to enter the operating room. Hospital rules, you know.
I remember seeing him cry because he was not allowed beside me during the operation; so he asked my OB-GYN, Dr. Tabetha Galindo, if we could say a prayer before the orderly wheeled me inside the OR.
I also recall the first night in the hospital when the twins were brought to the room so we can bond with them. They were quiet when the nurses were there, but as soon as the door closed, they cried — in unison. I panicked. What to do? Jeff and I looked at each other as we said “we’re parents” and laughed.
I have never changed a diaper prior to my transition from maidenhood to motherhood. Jeff became my tutor. He taught me how those latches work.
He taught me how to bathe babies. He taught me how to carry them.
Giving birth to Jeff Jr. in America and taking care of three small children in a foreign land made see me a different side of my Jeff.
He was my rock during the times when I couldn’t figure out the overwhelming responsibility of being a stay-at-home mother. He was working; and yet he always had time to make breakfast, prepare food for lunch and dinner and then come home with a smile on his lips and a bouquet of flowers.
Parenting here in Cebu at Casa Ruffolo Uno is not always about unicorns and rainbows. Jeff loses his temper as much as I do. You better find a hiding place when his inner Italian comes out because it ain’t pretty.
But Jeff is a loving father to Nicholas, Antoinette and Jeff Jr. as he takes time to have a daddy-son/daddy-daughter date with each child.
I especially love how he gives flowers to Antoinette. She is so pleased every time this happens, and she would often tell me how Daddy gave her a kiss and handed her a red rose.
The heavens blessed me with a good husband. Of that I am very sure. Not long after I uttered my “I do,” the heavens opened and showered me more gifts when that good husband turned out to be a wonderful father.
To you Jeffrey, happy Father’s Day! I could not ask for anything else except for more homemade lasagna, fried chicken, fresh spaghetti sauce and hand-rolled meatballs slowly fried in cloves of garlic!
And a very meaningful day to every father out there and to every woman who has played the role of a father.
The world is a better place to live in with you in our midst.
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